


end of the road (the journey continues)

by friendly_ficus



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Post-Campaign 1 (Critical Role), ashari politics speculation, coming into your own, keyleth/leadership otp, living on After the adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 15:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20472974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendly_ficus/pseuds/friendly_ficus
Summary: “You are asking us to become one people,” a warrior from Terrah accuses, “will you have us neglect our duties, next? Leave all of the planes to you for guarding?”“We arealreadyone people,” says Keyleth. “I just want us to talk to each other. For once.”(Or: The Voice of the Tempest lays the cornerstone of her legacy.)





	end of the road (the journey continues)

Her first year back in Zephra, with Vax, had been a great deal of getting-to-know her people again. Honestly, it had been a lot of arguing about the Crisis Orbs and their necessity, and then a lot of remembering that she actually  _ likes  _ the Ashari,  _ likes  _ being among her people even if they don’t want to connect with each other. Because that’s the big objection to the Orbs—her people see themselves as separate entities entirely, with little in common. Four tribes, where outsiders not there on Aramenté are received... a little less than warmly.

The year that followed that one, ravens appearing to her daily, she sat down and started planning something big. Started laying the groundwork for something to push her people forward, to encourage them to change.

Keyleth believes that the Ashari are all one people, just geographically separated. The Aramenté taught her that no matter how far apart they are, each tribe has something to teach the others. (Korren wonders if that might be the purpose of the odyssey itself. If by traveling so far from home, leaders are meant to learn what problems they can’t solve alone.)

This is not an especially difficult thing for Zephra to swallow. After all, there is a shared duty in protecting the world, even if it is from different planes. The four tribes all say  _ Kaitiakè, _ and before the great sundering of the world they traveled together and exchanged more knowledge, built more beliefs. 

Keyleth might now live a thousand years; she might see the next great sundering, the next calamity. She believes wholeheartedly that they must come together if they can even hope to meet it. Her people, and the Ashari are her people, each and every one, can be more than what they are now. If they would just  _ talk  _ to each other a little.

So, a meeting.

\---

“Together,” she concludes her speech announcing the idea, “we are guardians. Together we can weather any storm.”

A great cheer rises from Zephra and a wave of love and respect washes over her. This moment makes the days spent pacing her yurt and practicing lines and feeling sick absolutely worth it. Her people believe in her. Her people  _ believe  _ in her.

Now she just has to convince everyone else that this is a good idea. That’s fine. That’s easy. No pressure. Just something no one’s ever tried before.

Above the cheering crowd, she watches a raven fly away.

\---

The logistics of the summit are a nightmare and a half to figure out. The tribes aren’t enemies, so there’s no real need for a meeting on ground that’s especially neutral, but somehow hosting a gathering of Ashari is something nobody actually _wants _the responsibility for. So they actually _do _have to find a meeting place that’s at a relatively convenient location, and they have to figure out what discussions they want to have, and how many people from each tribe to invite, and where they’re going to sit at each meal.

And the  _ scheduling.  _ Keyleth never wants to see a calendar again. Or an itinerary. Or a checklist.

“It’s the first time we’ve ever done this, Tempest,” one of her (secretaries? attendants? friends?)  _ people  _ continually reminds her. “Everyone just wants it to go smoothly. Now, do you mind repeating the third section of your opening remarks? ‘We gather now in the spirit of fellowship—’”

“And to honor the connection that the Aramenté forges between our tribes...”

When the raven comes that night, she performs the entire speech with her eyes closed, imagining everything that might go wrong. Then she gives it some bread. 

It lets out a little  _ squawk,  _ and hops from her windowsill back into the sky. She watches black feathers vanish against the deep blue of night and hopes that this isn’t a mistake.

\---

The days stretch out in unending hours of planning and memorizing remarks and agreeing to meeting protocols and the format of discussion and debate and it seems that the summit will never arrive. Until, of course, Keyleth is splitting a tree on the side of her mountain and ushering through her advisors and scribes and artists. Until, of course, the first-ever gathering of four Ashari tribes begins.

(She’d asked Derrig about security concerns and he’d grimaced before showing her a hundred plans that had been drawn up in the event of an attack, an unexpected arrival, or a sudden death.

“Don’t make me use any of these, Tempest,” he’d requested. “Secrecy’s been pretty tight, nobody’s gotten information about this from  _ us  _ at least. But just in case somebody  _ was  _ sloppy and there  _ is  _ some kind of attack, I like the one where you turn into a dragon. The kids’d love another story where you do that. Again.”)

She fumbles with the first line of her opening remarks, but nobody laughs at her and soon she finds her rhythm, reaching out and connecting with her sister tribes. She knows what questions to ask, to get people to open up, and she knows how to open up in return.

There are smaller meetings that she doesn’t attend, a potter from each tribe arguing about clay with each other, weavers examining each other’s looms, guards complaining about headmasters’ antics. There are larger ones that she takes notes and answers questions at.  _ Points of connection, _ she had instructed her people, _ look for the places we intersect. Think of what we can learn from each other, and then ask for it. The worst they can do is say no. _

(“You are asking us to become  _ one people,”  _ a warrior from Terrah accuses, “will you have us neglect our duties, next? Leave all of the planes to  _ you  _ for guarding?”

“We are  _ already  _ one people,” says Keyleth. “I just want us to talk to each other. For once.”)

On the fifth night of their seven-day gathering, after she’s watched the raven fly back to the stars, Cerkonos knocks softly on the side of her temporary dwelling. 

“Come out,” he invites her, “come and talk to us without all the ceremony.”

“Everybody keeps saying the ceremony is  _ important,”  _ Keyleth insists, already climbing out the window.

\---

It’s a small fire that he leads her to, at the edge of all the earthen huts and well-constructed tents. Pa’tice is discussing some great sea storm he’d seen as a boy with Uvenda, who nods in fierce agreement. He’s pulled cups from the ground for everyone, and Cerkonos lets him finish the story while reaching for the wine Uvenda’s brought. 

It’s some old grudge that the two of them are working out, the Heart of the Mountain and the Heart of the Tides without an ocean or an earthquake. Keyleth abruptly understands: they all want this to work out. They all have history with each other that they’re trying to keep from influencing any of the meetings. If Uvenda’s as old as she seems, Cerkonos  _ and  _ Pa’tice probably had their Aramenté trials from her. And there are things still on her mind, too, things that she can’t share with her father or Derrig or anyone else in Zephra. Grudges she’s holding against herself.

Pyrah, ever smoldering in Keyleth’s memory, smells of guilt and failure and grief. Working with Raishan even for a moment, even for the  _ world,  _ well. It came a bit too close to betraying her people, to betraying herself. When she says it, though, when she goes to apologize Cerkonos shakes his head and pours her drink anyway.

“It was not you who failed Pyrah, Keyleth.” His right hand twitches briefly, remembering. He sits back on the other side of the campfire that they’ve gathered around, sneaking away from stacks of scrolls and watchful guards. “ _ You _ did not allow the dragon in.”

Across the fire, Keyleth’s gut clenches. “I—you know what happened. I fought beside her, I  _ let her help us.” _

”And perhaps you were wrong to do so.” The flames stir, casting light in odd patterns across his dark skin. As he leans forward, Cerkonos’ eyes burn into hers. “I hate to say this, because there is nothing I want more than to slowly tear the scales from her hide, but perhaps you were  _ right.” _

Pa’tice nods in agreement. “You are not the first among us to make a difficult choice,” he reminds her. “Completing your Aramenté does not mean that such challenges will cease, either.”

“Don’t come confessing,” Uvenda says. “Don’t look to us for punishment. Forgive yourself or learn to live with it.”

”I’m not going to  _ forgive  _ myself, how could you even suggest—”

”I killed your mother.” Keyleth cannot breathe. Uvenda presses further, unrelenting, “I am not the kraken but I killed her all the same. Her memory lives on in you, yes, but I sent Vilya to the depths and there she died. Will you strike me? Punish me?”

The fire flares, flames swelling as Cerkonos shifts his posture, now on guard. There is the faintest tremor in the ground. Pa’tice sets down his wine.

Keyleth cannot breathe. She is the wind and the rain and the howling tempest and she cannot breathe. She is caught, Uvenda’s gaze unwavering, pulling like a riptide until finally, finally, the other woman looks away. The four of them exist in this moment for a while, tension humming.

”No,” she says, once she finds her voice. “I won’t. I won’t attack you for following our customs and giving her the trial. But what I did wasn’t like that.”

”I made a choice, Keyleth,” Uvenda does not shift, does not hesitate, but the tension is gone. Pa’tice picks up his clay cup and the fire dies back down. “All you can do is make choices and endure their consequences.”

\---

At the end of all the meetings, Keyleth catches up to Uvenda. A wheel on one of the Water Ashari carts has come loose, delaying their departure, but one of Pa’tice’s group is a wheelwright and is already giving orders at the side of the cart.

”Which did you choose?” she asks. “Did you forgive yourself for my mother, or just learn to live with it?”

Uvenda hums for a moment. “I am an old woman. Soon I will have to send one of my own from Vesrah to seek you and the others. I have chosen my successor, and I do not ask that you be kind to them when they arrive.”

”Can’t help but notice that that isn’t an answer.”

”I have found that with enough living, they become the same thing. If you are asking if I grieve her, well,” and here Uvenda looks to the horizon, in the direction of the faraway ocean. “On a good day, not anymore. I try not to think of the leader she could have been. Instead, I think of the leader that you already are.”

Down the road, the wheel is fixed there are high fives and hearty back slaps all around. One of the Water Ashari begins walking towards the two of them, likely to inform Uvenda that they’re ready to leave.

”You cannot live your life looking backward, Keyleth. Not if you want to lead our people into the future.”

\---

A raven lands on her shoulder as she watches the cart disappear. Absently, Keyleth strokes its back. “Do you think this was the right choice?” she asks the bird.

Derrig, usually quiet at her back, answers. “Yes. You’re building a world we can look forward to.”

The raven fluffs its feathers once, perhaps in agreement, and takes flight. 

For the first time, Keyleth doesn’t watch it leave. Instead she turns to make sure everyone’s gathered at the right tree, that they’re all holding hands and ready to rush through.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this idea simmering since like... the year timeskip episode, maybe? Anyway Keyleth is a good leader and she wants to improve life for her people while also preventing a disaster like the destruction of Pyrah from ever happening again—but I think the orbs would be controversial and pushing for a deeper connection would be even moreso? So, just saying, over a long period of time (which keyleth!!! has!!!) they exchange ideas and talk to each other more and just. What i’m saying here is Keyleth has a profound ability to empathize and would seek to promote empathy in the ashari. She traveled the world she can see the value in connection. Also everybody acted like she was dumb for wanting to fight raishan but i maintain that her reaction was completely justified and absolutely made sense. Anyway it’s loving keyleth hours, folks.  
Leave a comment and let me know what you think! I hope you enjoyed this fic!


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